Aftermath
by DustyStars
Summary: After their plane crashes in the middle of nowhere, it's up to Bakura to look after Marik when he's injured. But will he do it, or will he walk away? One-shot. R&R!


**I got the inspiration for this one-shot today whilst hiking in the Lake District. We ended up by this lovely little lake in the mountains (in the rain) and I thought: 'What would Bakura and Marik do if they were here?' and so this fic was born. This is centred around my OTP, Thiefshipping! Enjoy **

**Warnings: Mild fluff and mild language.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, Bakura and Marik aren't mine. I own nothing but the plot.**

**XXX**

_Aftermath_

Bakura should have known it was a bad idea to let Marik pilot the plane.

He had tried to protest against it, but the stubborn blonde had been quite determined he knew exactly what to do and Bakura was to let him do it. Now, from his seat next to Marik, Bakura wished he had protested harder. If he was going to die he wanted to be the one to control it.

The reason he was contemplating such a grim subject was the terrible storm his ally was trying to navigate through. Rain was lashing at the windows with alarming force, a howling gale was tossing them from side to side and above them Bakura could hear the ominous rumble of thunder. And next to him Marik was smiling. _Smiling._

"What the bloody hell are you grinning at?" Bakura shouted over another roll of thunder as he clutched the armrests of his seat.

"We never had storms in Egypt, it's rather fun to be this close to one!" Marik replied, his face suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning forking through the clouds.

"Marik, we have to land! It's too dangerous up here!" Being British, Bakura knew exactly what lightning could do to things, both on the ground and in the air having seen more than his fair share of weather.

"Oh quit worrying, we'll be fine up here," came the response, and Bakura had to resist the urge to hit him. Marik was like a child, having spent most of his life underground he was incredibly naïve to many forms of danger. Apparently being struck by ten thousand volts of electricity wasn't any cause for concern.

Bakura was about to make an attempt at vocalising this when the world was lit up by a blinding flash of light and a second later his ears were met with a loud crack. Slightly disorientated, it took him a moment to realise his worst fears had been confirmed: lightning had hit them and their left engine was in flames.

"Marik, we have to land now, before the other engine gives out too!" Bakura yelled, but it seemed the Egyptian was totally oblivious to the fire out of the window.

"Nonsense! That was just a little glitch, we're fine!"

This time Bakura really did hit him. "Look at the controls you idiot," he said, gesturing to the rows of flashing red lights, warning of the imminent danger. "Either land now or I will knock you out and do it myself."

Marik had finally noticed the burning wreck that was their left engine. "Shit, Bakura, the plane's on fire! We need to land!"

Ignoring his partner's frustrated growl he put the plane into a nosedive and headed down as fast as possible. "If the map is correct we're over a lake right now, we can land in there."

"You're going to land… in a lake?" Bakura said as incredulously as possible, which was quite difficult as he was pinned to his seat by the laws of physics. They finally broke through the worst of the storm clouds and suddenly the ground was coming up way too fast. Sure enough, there was a lake there, but-

"Marik, how the hell are you going to land in something so small?"

The blonde simply laughed and didn't reply.

As Bakura closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact he thought to say, "Marik, if I survive this, I'm going to kill you." That earned another laugh.

Then the plane levelled off and almost instantly hit the surface of the lake, dousing the flames and skimming across the length of it. They hit the land on the other side with a sickening crunch and the plane came to a sudden stop, throwing its occupants around like corks in the sea.

It took a few moments for Bakura to dare to open his eyes, and when he did he wished he hadn't. The plane was a wreck. The left engine had fallen off completely, the nose had been crushed by a large rock and the right wing was floating in the lake. The whole thing was smoking and there were little fires springing up from under the nose. There was no way they were getting in the air again.

He turned to his partner to make some sarcastic comment before realising he wasn't moving.

"Marik? Marik!" he said frantically, undoing his belt and rushing to the blonde's side. There was a lump forming on his head- he must have hit his head on the dashboard with enough force to knock him out. Cursing under his breath, Bakura kicked open the door of the plane and threw a couple of rucksacks filled with survival gear and a first aid kit out before returning for Marik. With shaking hands he undid Marik's seatbelt and carefully picked him up, struggling not to hurt him further in the enclosed space. With a bit of manoeuvring, he managed to get them both a safe distance from the plane in case it decided to blow up completely.

As he laid the blonde down on the grass he quickly assessed their surroundings. The lake was surrounded by large, rocky mountains on one side and steep, grassy slopes on the other. There was no sign of life anywhere- just mountains in all directions. Bakura had been in worse situations than this.

Working quickly, the Brit took the first aid kit and bandaged the lump on Marik's head before seeing to the various cuts and bruises elsewhere. He was just finishing when it began to rain. It was just a fine drizzle but a quick glance at the sky told him there was probably a lot more on the way. He had to find some sort of shelter- the last thing he needed was for Marik to be cold.

On the other side of the lake Bakura could see a little rocky outcrop which might provide shelter from the imminent downpour. All his survival instincts from 3000 years ago began to kick in. His brain mapped out the best route for him to take and noted any possible hazards along the way. He grabbed one of the rucksacks and the first aid kit before picking his injured partner up and making his way around the lake as fast as he could.

The lake itself wasn't that large, maybe only a few hundred meters across, it was a wonder Marik had been able to land safely, but the path Bakura took was a lot longer due to the steep embankments around the water's edge. It was about half an hour before he arrived at the rocks and the rain was falling in earnest. As he had thought, the rocky ledge above him provided ample shelter from the rain, which could prove to be invaluable. He lay Marik down carefully before searching through the rucksack and coming up with a survival blanket and a waterproof coat. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do at the moment.

Eyeing Marik's thin lilac hoodie, he decided the Egyptian needed the protection more than he had. He wrapped the jacket around his torso, covered him in the blanket, and placed the rucksack next to him. He was about to leave to see what else he could salvage from the plane wreck when Marik stirred and moaned slightly.

Bakura's head whipped around, but Marik's eyes were still closed and his mouth slightly parted. He looked almost peaceful, and had Bakura not known better, he could have been sleeping.

Acting on impulse, Bakura returned to Marik's side and studied his face further. Slightly childish with an evil streak- that was Marik all over. But now the hard lines that were usually present on his face had disappeared, and he looked much younger than usual.

At first Bakura had only looked to use Marik for his skills, but over time his feelings had… Changed. He hadn't thought it possible for a spirit like himself to feel anything but Marik had walked into his life and complicated it beyond belief. Now, Bakura didn't know what to think. It made him mad that there was someone who could make him show weakness, affection, because when the plane had crashed and Bakura had looked over at the blondes still form something had wrenched his heart like nothing else since his village had burned in front of his eyes, and that wasn't supposed to happen.

Without really thinking through the reasons, Bakura leaned down, brushed his lips on Marik's forehead, and whispered, "I'll be back soon."

Then he stood and left, not noticing Marik opening his eyes slightly and smiling after him.

Marik had to take a few tries at opening his eyes properly- he could still see stars dancing in front of them and his head was pounding. But after a few minutes, he was able to half sit up and assess his surroundings. He was by a small-ish lake under an outcrop in the pouring rain, and there was a smouldering wreck of a plane on the other side. It all came back to him.

He remembered that they had been travelling to England for Bakura to retrieve some things he had left behind, he remembered the storm, he remembered the lightning strike, he remembered putting the plane into a nose dive and Bakura's sarcastic threat and he could remember consciously levelling the plane off. But then? Nothing. He must have hit his head on the dash, because his mind was blank from that point on.

The next thing he had remembered was being set down on the ground and wrapped in the blanket and Bakura- Bakura had kissed him before leaving. Marik smiled again at this- his cold friend had a heart after all.

Bakura and Marik had first partnered up because they had a common goal, but over time their partnership had shifted, or at least it had from Marik's point of view. He had somehow come to view the grumpy albino as his friend as well as an ally. And then as more than that, over time. He was sensible to keep his mouth shut of course, for he knew Bakura was prone to rage when something happened that he didn't like, and he would certainly not appreciate Marik trying to change their relationship. Hell, he had got annoyed when Marik wanted a new sofa in the apartment (hideout) they shared. Sometimes Marik would have preferred the company of Ryou, Bakura's gentle host, but on the few occasions that this had happened, Marik found that he missed Bakura's casual sarcasm and quick wits.

Marik attempted to move, but the slightest movement sent his vision spiralling and his head reeling. He would just have to wait for Bakura to return. And when he did perhaps he would ask about the kiss. Then he remembered the last time he had questioned Bakura's actions towards Ryou, and the long search for new kitchen appliances afterwards. Perhaps he wouldn't ask after all.

About an hour passed, and the rain didn't slow or stop. Marik was beginning to get uncomfortable on the hard ground, the blanket did little in the way of comfort and the jacket itched at his bare arms. He still couldn't comfortably move, but his vision was improving. As he was contemplating trying to take the jacket off- it was dry in here anyway- he heard the sound of feet on wet grass, and a second later a dripping wet Bakura appeared carrying two large rucksacks and a few carrier bags.

"Oh, thank God you're awake," he said, with… relief?

Marik blinked.

Bakura threw the bags and rucksacks down before coming over to Marik. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Marik said, and his voice cracked on the last syllable. "And thirsty," he added.

Bakura picked up one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of water. "I took everything of use from the plane, it's not much but we should be able to survive here until you're well enough to move again." He handed Marik the water, who took it gratefully. "There's some food, water, blankets, medicine, and some things we can use to light a fire," he continued as he searched through the bags.

Marik nodded as he sipped water, before groaning and putting a hand to his head. "My brain hurts," he said softly. "How long was I out for?"

"About an hour," Bakura said as he handed Marik some painkillers and began pulling blankets out of the larger rucksack, which he then arranged on the floor.

After taking the medicine Marik questioned, "Are you ok?"

Bakura gave a tight nod before unpacking some coals and a lighter from the other rucksack. His moment of weakness before he had left angered him, and it was all Marik's fault. He was Bakura, not some stupid moron who fell for Egyptian boys. All evidence to the contrary.

He attempted to get his unnecessary anger under control as he set about making a fire. Unfortunately his bad mood went unnoticed by Marik, who decided it was a good idea to make conversation.

Bakura answered the questions about where he had got the fuel from (the engine) and whether he had bought a change of clothes (he hadn't) and how long they would stay here for (he steered clear of answering that one), but eventually his curt answers forced Marik into silence.

It wasn't until night was falling and the rain was slowing that either of them spoke again.

"Bakura… I'm sorry."

The white haired man looked up sharply from the other side of the fire.

"Sorry for what?"

"For not being able to control the plane better. I should have seen the rock, I should have stopped it."

Marik would have continued had Bakura not stood and moved over to sit next to him.

"Marik, we're both alive, which I think defies nature in itself. I wouldn't have been able to do what you did," he said. "You couldn't have done any more than that."

"But you were angry earlier…" Marik tailed off as Bakura looked at him.

"Marik, you know I get mad easily and often for no reason. Why would I be mad at you for saving our lives?"

"It's not that," Marik said cautiously. "It's just that I know I'm a burden right now and you didn't have to carry me here or look after me. You don't have any obligation to stay here and I thought you might be mad with me for holding us back right now."

He was surprised to hear Bakura chuckling. "Marik, if I wanted I would have left you in the plane and carried on by myself. The fact that I'm here pretty much proves that I'm not going to leave."

The truth was, Bakura had often thought about leaving. He imagined doing it, just packing his stuff one night and fading away into the darkness, but he knew he would never do it. Because for some stupid reason, he actually cared about what would happen to Marik. And this made him mad again.

His anger must have shown on his face, for Marik was now looking at him with fear in his eyes, and Bakura was instantly guilty.

"I'm sorry anyway, 'Kura." Marik's voice was barely a whisper and he uttered the shortened name with some nervousness, for he had never said it before.

Had he been in the mood Bakura would have raised an eyebrow, but he didn't. He simply frowned.

The closed look was back and Marik didn't know what to do. He thought about continuing further but he thought he had seen the angry red flash in Bakura's eyes and knew it wouldn't be a smart thing to do. Instead he did what he always did. He ran away.

He slowly stood and carefully made his way to the far edge of the covered area, away from the fire and away from the disappointment on Bakura's face. He lay down and looked up at the stars. The rain had cleared and the storm clouds had moved off to a different part of the country, so he could see the constellations quite clearly.

He got so lost in their beauty that he forgot about his current problems and didn't notice when someone lay down next to him quietly. He refused to acknowledge Bakura's presence though, his head still hurt and arguing with him would only make it worse. They were always arguing about things. Arguing was Bakura's natural defence mechanism, even when nothing was threatening him. Most of the time Marik gave as good as he got but this time… Marik had no idea what to make of his partner's odd behaviour.

"Reminds me of when I was alive, the stars," Bakura said from next to him, and Marik turned to see him gazing at the sky with unveiled longing. "In Ancient Egypt they were always the clearest in the deserts away from civilisation. I used to go there some nights and look at them as I fell asleep."

Marik was silent. It wasn't often that Bakura talked about his days as the Thief King but when he did it always fascinated Marik. It took a lot for him to imagine Bakura as an Egyptian, what with his pale skin and white hair, but there was no doubt he told the truth of his past. Marik smiled slightly.

They remained silent for a while longer, both lost in their own thoughts, before Bakura turned to Marik.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. He had never said it to another person in his life, so he decided to make it count. "I'm sorry for my odd behaviour, I've been having an internal argument with myself for a while now. About you."

Marik raised his head at this. "Me? What about me?"

Bakura sighed, unsure if he could actually do this. He took a deep breath.

"The crash made me realise that there is actually someone in this world who I care about. And that scares me, because everyone I have ever cared about has been taken from me. I swore when my village burned that I would never feel for anyone again, but you made me break that promise. That's why I am angry. Not at you, but at myself."

Bakura said this in a rush, as though he was afraid the words wouldn't come, or they might not be the right ones. He looked anxiously into Marik's shocked face afterwards, but couldn't fathom what he was thinking.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Marik?"

The blonde nodded slowly.

"Do you have anything to say to it?" Bakura tried not to let the impatience show in his tone.

Marik took a few seconds to answer, and when he did, it wasn't with words.

He leaned forwards and tentatively brushed his lips against Bakura's forehead. He heard a slight intake of breath and chuckled slightly.

"I was conscious when you did that earlier, I knew what you felt for me before you said it," Marik said quietly, earning a small growl from Bakura.

"And you didn't say anything?"

Marik huffed. "Well you looked ready to kill me so I thought it best to keep quiet."

Bakura closed his eyes. "And again, I'm sorry, though you will never get me to repeat it. I would never hurt you."

He felt Marik shift next to him and then there was a weight on his chest.

"Well, some of your sarcasm can sometimes be quite wounding," he remarked. "And that time you threw the spatula at me was pretty painful."

Bakura laughed. He remembered the incident very well, and still maintained that Marik had deserved it. He had, after all, replaced his conditioner with purple hair dye.

They fell silent for a while, calmly watching the stars and content just to lay there, until Marik broke the silence.

"'Kura, isn't this going to throw a spanner in the works with regards to our plan?"

"I suppose," came the sleepy reply. "We do need those weapons from my base before we can proceed."

"Oh dear."

"Screw it. The Pharaoh and his little brat can damn well wait. We're busy." Bakura wrapped his arms tighter round Marik as though to prove his point.

"No we're not."

"Well I am."

"No you're not."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

"Fine!" And before Marik could protest, Bakura was discovering all kinds of ways to make him shut up, as the stars twinkled innocently above them without a care in the world.

**Fin**


End file.
